


Success versus Happiness

by farad



Series: Modern Mercenaries [3]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 21:23:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17271371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farad/pseuds/farad
Summary: The start of another chapter in the Modern Mercenaries series, this is the story of how Ezra and Chris and the mission to Oman.  The rest of the story is coming, soon, I promise.





	Success versus Happiness

“ _Success is getting what you want. Happiness is wanting what you get.”_

\- Dale Carnegie

 

He couldn’t look in the mirror. He’d tried to – he needed to apply the dark eyeliner under his lashes, needed to apply the make-up to his face to make his skin look darker.

 

Needed to put in the contacts that made his eyes a deep brown instead of their natural green.

 

But every time he looked at himself, he saw someone he could no longer stand.

 

It made no sense, of course; when he had made the promise to Vin, over two weeks ago, on the day this damnable mission had started, he had assumed that his affections were one-sided, that in truth, all he was really promising was to not offer any temptation to Chris.

 

But this mission, from the start, had gone greatly off kilter. Ezra had expected to make contact a low level, to plant a few listening devices and trackers on known sympathizers, and then to be back on a plane for home.

 

Instead, quite inadvertently, he found himself drinking coffee and discussing the vagaries of chess with a man in a local coffee shop. That man, as it turned out, was more than a low-level errand runner. And he was interested in playing chess with Ezra. They played in the early afternoon, during what people in the West called ‘lunch’, though their games took more than an hour.

 

And while they never discussed anything other than chess, Ezra was witness to various interruptions in their games, when an associate would require his new friend’s attention, when they would speak in the language Farsi, a language that they assumed Ezra not to know, as the language he spoke with his new friend was Arabic.

 

It was a challenge, of course; Ezra had learned chess early in his life, and while he was a competent player, he was not a grandmaster. This man, though, was quite good, and it had become clear that if Ezra wanted to continue to challenge him – to continue to keep him interested enough to meet – then they had to devise better strategy.

 

That amounted to a well-placed receiver in Ezra’s ear and an exceptional camera hidden in the glasses he wore. Josiah could see the game, enter the moves into a chess computer program, and whisper to Ezra what moves to make. It worked well for the most part, though Ezra was careful not to win too many games, but instead, to have his wins be about half of the games they played.

 

Always keep the mark believing that he was doing well.

 

That was what you were doing when you made that promise to Vin, a little voice in his head chimed in.

 

And maybe it had been. But he had meant it, he really had.

 

And now . . .

 

There was movement behind in, on the bed, and for a moment, he was sorry that he had pushed the mirror aside. He’d often dreamed of what he would see at this point, the morning after, the sun streaming through the wide, arched window onto the lean body in his bed, catching in the bright golden hair. They’d been here only two weeks, but in that time, that hair had been bleached so bright that it was blinding.

 

He started to turn, to see the sight for himself, when a sleep-rough voice said, “You’re worrying. And you’re late. Nothing for you to worry on.”

 

It was strange, still, after four years, to have this man know him so well.

 

And irritating as hell. “I am not worried,” he said, the lie coming as easily as the words that made it. “Whyever should I be worried?”

 

The chuckle was low and deep, reminiscent of other noises made not so long ago. Those, though, had been made in the dead of night, in the darkness. Here, in the brutal light of morning, they were only memories. “Because somewhere in the past year or two, you gained some respect for the rest of us, and you’re worried that you may have done something to hurt Vin and Buck.”

 

Again, the extent to which the man seemed to understand him both astounded and frustrated Ezra.

 

But it was, indeed, what was worrying now. Because he did like both of those men. And he did care about this job.

 

That was the hardest part to accept. That he actually was feeling guilty about what he and Chris had done.

 

“It don’t matter,” Chris said, and Ezra heard the bed creak as the other man shifted, then he heard the sound of the cotton sheets moving. He couldn’t stop himself this time, turning around to watch as Chris got out of the bed.

 

Out of Ezra’s bed. That thought was as breath-taking as the sight before him. He had seen Chris naked of course – they consistently worked in close quarters, all seven of them often sharing a space no larger than a closet. But right now, in this room, he had the opportunity to watch without concerns over anyone else’s awareness of his watching.

 

Except Chris’. And this time, Chris didn’t care. In fact, he preened, taking time to stretch languidly, uncaring of his nakedness in this place where the two of them would be stoned to death for being here together alone, much less for being spies of a foreign and hostile government.

 

Eventually, Chris rubbed a hand through his hair, pushing it into some sort of order. As he stepped away from the bed, he leaned down to pick up his pants, drawing them on easily before continuing on to where Ezra sat.

 

As he drew near, he reached out a hand, running it gently over Ezra’s face until he had cupped one cheek. Ezra tensed at the touch though he didn’t resist. He did close his eyes as Chris’ face descended toward his, their lips touching familiarly.

 

It was laced with desire, but it wasn’t a kiss intended for that. As it broke, Chris murmured, “You know Buck don’t care – something you’ve pointed out more than once in the past few years. So you’re really only worried about Vin. And, more to the point, yourself. But you said last night this was only sex – you already changing your mind about that?”

 

Ezra looked at him, holding his gaze while his mind ran in circles. It had never been about sex – well, yes, once, long ago, when he had first started with the organization. But it had stopped being about sex long before last night. It was about wanting to be here, with these men – with this man. This job, these people, this commitment.

 

He’d never had it before. Never expected to have it.

 

Never known until he had it how badly he had wanted it.

 

“Ezra,” Chris said, his voice low and tight. “You know what this is – you know who we are. You’re a part of us – and what happened last night ain’t changing that. Buck and Vin already know that you and me are connected. They know me – and they know you. So feeling guilty is a waste of time and effort. We got a mission right now. Focus on that, focus on what we got right here.”

 

It was, Ezra knew, sound advice. It was advice he usually tried to live by.

 

But for one of the few times in his life, he had managed to get something he truly wanted. Something he had thought beyond his reach.

 

And he knew himself well enough to know that he wanted to keep it.

 

Before he could find a lie, there was a light tapping at the door, then Nathan’s low voice murmured, “You ready in there? We need to get going.”

 

That ended all thoughts of anything else, as the mission always took priority – for Chris, anyway.

 

Without another word, he turned Ezra back toward the mirror, reaching out to tilt it up and back into place. “Let’s go,” he said, turning away to trot over to the door.

 

Passingly, as he busied himself with the make up and the contact, Ezra wondered what Nathan would make of seeing Chris bare-chested in this room. But if Nathan thought anything of it – if he had even noticed – he said nothing of it during the rest of the mission.

 


End file.
